


The Spare Bedroom

by Hustling_Rube93



Series: Stay [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, First Time, Fluff, Lesbian Sex, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:53:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23083534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hustling_Rube93/pseuds/Hustling_Rube93
Summary: That was the night it happened.The night they fucked in Andromeda’s spare bedroom.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Series: Stay [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1574908
Comments: 38
Kudos: 330





	The Spare Bedroom

**Author's Note:**

> 02/10/2020: Super amazing Ali has a fun little project currently on the go recording all our fav Bellamione fics audio-book style. 
> 
> I was honoured that she chose ‘The Spare Bedroom’ for the very first episode and you can listen to it at the links below if you’re interest. I’m still in awe and can’t stop listening to it, she really has went above and beyond to create something fun and sexy for us all to enjoy. 
> 
> If you have Tumblr, head over to ‘fluffandfervor’ for a nosey. 
> 
> https://anchor.fm/fluffandfervor/episodes/The-Spare-Bedroom---Hustling_Rube93-eke0de 
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/show/4FuPyFXnLsAlahvMT5l95k
> 
> ***
> 
> Ali also has some banging Bellamione fic of her own! 
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/users/letthemysterybe/pseuds/letthemysterybe
> 
> ***
> 
> I own nothing. All mistakes are my own. Enjoy!

To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves — Federico García Lorca

* * *

The last thing Hermione expected to see when she peeked around the door into Andromeda’s living room, was Bellatrix Black, notoriously terrifying ex-Death Eater extraordinaire, looming over a giggling, squirming Teddy as she tried to wrestle him out of his dirty babygrow.

The little boy’s hair was dark and unruly, as it usually tended to be whenever he was around Bellatrix. Even his pale complexion matched his aunt’s, but the fierce intensity of Bellatrix’s dark gaze was all her own - one that, Hermione knew, could send grown men running with their tails between their legs, and more recently, for her to feel as though a rogue contingent of Cornish pixies had taken flight in her belly. But the intense look on Bellatrix’s face had little Teddy cackling uproariously. His ordinarily bright blue eyes, which were now a deep charcoal brown, peered up at Bellatrix, full of laughter and mischief as he held his chubby arms out to her, making grabbing motions with his tiny fingers. 

He was reaching for Bellatrix’s hair Hermione noted, which the dark witch had sensibly pinned back in a loose, messy bun, and out of reach of Teddy’s hands. He’d had a bad habit of pulling recently, and there was nothing Hermione knew he liked to pull more than Bellatrix’s hair. 

Hermione creaked the door open a fraction wider just as Bellatrix managed to tug Teddy’s vest over his head and it was then that the smell of a full nappy assaulted her nostrils. 

“You reek, Master Lupin,” Bellatrix admonished the thrashing baby. “You smell worse than Stinksap, and I can assure you, Sir, I thought there was nothing worse than that!”

Teddy just beamed up at her and tried to twist around onto his stomach, but Bellatrix snatched his ankles and rolled him onto his back again. “Don’t you dare!” she growled softly, and quickly unwrapped the bulging nappy. 

Hermione’s shoulders started to shake with silent laughter as a string of softly muttered expletives tumbled from Bellatrix’s lips. Teddy cooed and giggled, and Bellatrix grabbed a fistful of baby wipes from the packet on the floor next to her knee - far more than Hermione knew was necessary to get the job done. 

“Think this is funny, do you?” the dark witch huffed, and Hermione stiffened, thinking she’d been discovered, until Bellatrix started cleaning Teddy’s backside and said, “Of course you do, you rancid little bugger!”

Teddy just giggled up at her, and Hermione could see that the grimace on Bellatrix’s face didn’t quite reach her eyes. Over the last few months, Hermione had come to realise that Teddy’s high spirited squealing could bring out the formidable witch’s tender side. Even now, as Bellatrix fastened another nappy around her wriggling nephew, her frown disappeared and was replaced by an affectionate smile. 

“All done,” Bellatrix declared triumphantly, and reached up to retrieve her wand from where it was nestled amongst her messy curls, quickly vanishing the mess and sending the dirty vest to the washing hamper. “I’m getting better at this, you didn’t even pee on me this time.”

Then she lowered her head and blew a loud, wet raspberry on Teddy’s bare belly. He squealed with laughter and immediately fisted his hands into Bellatrix’s hair, and Bellatrix groaned a little, obviously realising that she may have made a mistake. 

“No, no, no,” Bellatrix admonished, but she was laughing now too. “Don’t pull, you little shit.” Then she blew another raspberry onto Teddy’s neck and he lowered his chin to his chest and tried to squirm away, releasing his hold on his aunt’s messy hair. 

Bellatrix smirked victoriously, leaning back on her haunches, and twirled a loose curl around her wand. “This is not a toy,” she lightly scolded, and gestured to the thick strand of ebony tangled around the walnut and dragon heartstring. “I don’t know how many times I need to tell you.”

In that moment, Hermione felt a warmth in the pit of her stomach that hadn’t been there a second ago. Maybe it was because she knew Bellatrix’s ire was completely contrived and Teddy’s laughter was infectious. Or maybe it was because Bellatrix was so unguarded in that moment, her expression beautifully soft as she quickly swaddled Teddy into a fresh babygrow that was adorned with little Golden Snitches. The scene was endearing either way and Hermione could have watched them for hours, but she decided then that it was probably a good time to make herself known. 

So she stepped around the door into the living room and said, “Having fun?”

Bellatrix’s head snapped up and her gentle smile curled into one of disdain. “Granger,” she sneered. 

“Bellatrix,” Hermione inclined her head and tried to match the same level of contempt on the older woman’s face. But she could feel the corners of her lips threatening to tug into a grin. At some point over the past few months, the tension between them had turned into gentle needling and playful banter. Hermione had learned quickly that teasing seemed to be Bellatrix’s preferred method of communication, so Hermione always made sure to give back as good as she got. 

They held each other’s gaze for another tense moment, then Bellatrix snorted a laugh and bundled Teddy against her chest as she stood. “Nice of you to finally show up,” she said reproachfully, but Hermione knew her game by now and just rolled her eyes. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Hermione apologised, shrugging out of her coat and draping it over the back of an armchair. “My last lecture ran a little later than planned, that’s us finished until after the new year now.” She supposed that was one of the only downsides to taking her NEWTS independently, lectures sometimes ran a little over time, but it was better than returning to Hogwarts. She didn’t know if she would ever be able to go back there. Shaking her head, she pointed skyward where the faint chords of an upbeat Cher monstrosity that had been plaguing the wireless for the last few weeks was vibrating through the ceiling and she asked, “Hasn’t Andy left yet?”

“She’s still putting her slap on,” Bellatrix told her and all but thrust Teddy into Hermione’s arms. “Here, hold him a tick while I find out what’s taking her so long. She told me not to put him to bed until she’d said goodnight to him.” Then she sighed theatrically. “I had him all bathed and ready for bed then he sneezed all over himself and decided to shit everywhere. Sometimes I think he does these things on purpose just to test my patience.”

Hermione laughed a little and pressed a sweet kiss into Teddy’s hair, which turned a mousy brown the moment Bellatrix left the room and ran up the stairs. He stuck his bottom lip out and his eyes were suddenly wide and forlorn. Hermione knew he’d been poorly recently, full of the cold for the past week, and terribly clingy - especially with Bellatrix, who had been staying with Andromeda to give her a bit of a break the last few days. Hermione knew it couldn’t be easy trying to juggle work and Teddy at the same time, but there were plenty of people to lend a hand. 

“Aunty Bella will be back in a minute,” she told Teddy, and rubbed his back soothingly. He fussed a little and tried to crane his neck to see into the hall, searching for her, until a muffled thump and a loud, raucous cackle from upstairs drew both their gazes to the ceiling. Hermione just caught the annoyed “Piss off, Bella!” as the wireless was turned off.

Bellatrix was sniggering when she bounced back down the stairs. “Andy’s just getting dressed,” she informed Hermione with a wide grin. 

“You walked in on her, didn’t you?” Hermione laughed, shaking her head. 

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. Nearly burst my bloody eardrum with her screeching,” Bellatrix told her, wiggling her finger in her ear for emphasis. Then she dropped her voice to a stage whisper and said, “She’s wearing her lacy knickers though. Think she’s meeting a fella?”

Before Hermione could reply, Andromeda thumped down the stairs having apparently dressed in record time, and marched into the living room in heels so pointy they probably could’ve been used as a weapon. 

Bellatrix’s eyebrows shot up. ‘What are you wearing?”

The fierce glare Andromeda was pinning Bellatrix with swiftly melted away under her sister’s scrutiny and she smoothed her hands up and down her sides, suddenly looking a little self-conscious. “Cissy picked it out when we went shopping the other week. It’s a little clingier than I’d usually—“

“Let me look at you.” Bellatrix demanded, and spun her finger in the air a few times. Andromeda rolled her eyes but humoured her and slowly turned. “Turn around. Yes. I like it. Very nice.”

When Andromeda spun back around to face them, Bellatrix was smirking. “Well, well,” she nodded appraisingly. “There is a body under all that frumpy Muggle tat after all.”

Andromeda’s eyes turned flinty again and she pouted, “Don’t be a cow!”

Despite Andromeda’s scowl, Hermione knew the sister’s well enough by now to know that Andromeda was secretly delighted by the remark even though it had been less than flattering. 

“Learn to take a compliment, love. I don’t dish them out often,” Bellatrix told her, and her dark eyes flickered up and down Andromeda’s dress again. 

Andromeda’s rolled her eyes and snarked, “Only you could give a compliment and be a cheeky bint at the same time.”

It was a pretty dress, Hermione noted. It was a deep cranberry red, fitting for the time of year she thought, very festive, with long sleeves, and a plunging neckline. The tight fabric clung to the shapely figure that Andromeda often hid under the thick jumper and jean combinations that she favoured. 

“You should pop a button, though,” Bellatrix suggested, and reached out towards the three glossy black buttons adorning the bodice. 

Andromeda shook her head and looked down at her chest. “Oh, I don’t know, don’t you think it’s already quite revealing?”

“Trust me, Andy. A little more cleavage will keep the boys interested without being too much to make you look desperate.” Bellatrix circled her, looking thoughtful, then leaned in close and tousled Andromeda’s hair a little. “You always had the best rack. If you’ve got it then flaunt it, darling.”

At that, Hermione found her gaze unintentionally drawn to Bellatrix’s cleavage and couldn’t help but ogle her for a few seconds. She had put on weight since Azkaban, but she still had a great figure. Her breasts were a little larger than her own, but not too much to be a handful like Andromeda’s, and they bounced a little as she laughed airily at the look of indignation on Andromeda’s face. Hermione blew out a soft breath and looked away, glad they hadn’t noticed her staring.

Her wandering eyes had been a regular occurrence of late. She wasn’t entirely sure what to think about it. Since reacquaintance with Bellatrix after the War there had been a sort of tension between them until one day it disappeared and was replaced by a pleasant fluttering feeling. 

“It’s a bloody ABBA tribute night with the girls from work. I’m not exactly going out on the pull, Bella,” Andromeda scolded. 

“Oh, please!” Bellatrix scoffed. “I literally just saw you in your sexy knickers.”

“They’re the only ones that didn’t show through the dress!” Andromeda protested. “It’s bloody tight, I’m not walking around with my panty lines on display.”

Bellatrix ignored her and rubbed her hands together gleefully. “Wait till I tell Cissy. I’m going to Floo her when you leave and bet her twenty Galleons you come home early with a fella.”

Andromeda barked a laugh, but the streak of colour that blossomed on her cheeks was unmistakable, even under her full face of makeup. “Not bloody likely, I—“

“Show Granger your scanties, I’m sure she’ll agree.” Bellatrix cut in, and took a step towards her. 

Andromeda backed away with a strangled laugh. “What’s wrong with you?”

“A lot of things. Probably.” Bellatrix marched over to start tugging at Andromeda’s skirt - and got her hand slapped away. 

“Pack it in!” Andromeda snapped. “Are you mental?”

“You’ve even taken a bath in your sexy bubbles.” Bellatrix leaned in close and inhaled deeply. “I can smell it.”

“What are you, a bloodhound?” Andromeda shook her head, and Hermione barely caught the flash of sadness in her dark gaze before it was gone again. “I’m not in any hurry to start dating again. It haven’t even been a year since Ted—“

“Who said anything about dating? A sexy little one-nighter, that’s what you need.” 

“God, shut up, would you!” Andromeda was laughing now, looking absolutely mortified, but perhaps not as opposed to the suggestion as she was leading them to believe. She cast a quick mirror charm to check for none existent stray hairs and asked, “Do I look alright?” 

“I wouldn’t bother, love,” Bellatrix smirked. “You’re hair won’t look like that later once you’ve had a good hard fu—“

“Behave!” Andromeda growled, looking thoroughly unamused now. “Just because you’d shag anything with a pulse doesn’t mean we all would.”

Bellatrix flung her head back and laughed, then slapped her palm over her heart. “Andromeda, I’m stung,” she said in mock outrage. 

“Ignore her. She’s obviously on the wind up,” Hermione scoffed, despite trying to hold back her own giggles at the two women’s sisterly banter. “You look lovely, Andy.”

“Thank you, love,” Andromeda’s face brightened into a wide smile as Bellatrix made sarcastic little kissing faces. 

Andromeda ignored Bellatrix and summoned her jacket and her purse, then looked at Hermione, her expression turning serious. “Now,” she said in a businesslike tone. “I better get going, I’m meeting the girls at seven in The Leaky for a few before we head into Muggle London. If you need me for anything, absolutely anything, you send your Patronus.”

“I will, but I’m sure we’ll be just fine,” Hermione told her confidently, and gave Andromeda what she hoped was her most reassuring smile. “We’ve watched Teddy plenty of times.”

“I know, I know,” Andromeda sighed, though she still looked slightly on edge. “But this is the first time I’ve left him this long, I’ll probably end up crashing at one of the girls’ houses afterwards and he’s not been himself lately and...well, they went to a lot of trouble to arrange something fun this year and I didn’t—“

“Hush,” Bellatrix told her, effectively shutting her up. She snatched the black leather jacked from over Andromeda’s arm and practically manhandled her into it. “Granger and I will be just fine. Now, bugger off and enjoy yourself.” 

“All right, all right,” Andromeda huffed and held her hands up in surrender. “But remember if—“

“Leave. Now.” Bellatrix pointed to the fireplace. “I have the situation in hand. How hard can it be to supervise a baby and a teenager?” She reached for Teddy, who had started to doze on Hermione’s shoulder, and cradled him against her chest. “Give Teddy a kiss and get lost.”

Andromeda rolled her eyes at that and bent down to press her lips to Teddy’s hair and then a quick kiss to Bellatrix’s cheek. Teddy whimpered a little and rubbed at his eye with his fist. “He’s tired,” Andromeda said. “Take him up to bed and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Bellatrix nodded and said, “Have fun,” then softly added, “Be careful.” Then when she stepped out into the hall, she threw Andromeda a salacious wink over her shoulder. “And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” 

Then she disappeared with Teddy and Andromeda waited until she heard her footsteps upstairs before turning to Hermione once more. 

“You’ll be alright on your own with Bella, won’t you, love?” Andromeda asked in a hushed voice, concern lacing her tone. 

“Of course,” Hermione assured her, and she knew immediately what Andromeda was getting at. The older witch’s unease was completely unfounded, but Hermione was flattered by her concern nevertheless.

“I know things between you and Bella are...” she trailed off, looking thoughtful for a moment. “Well, I understand you had words a little while ago. It’s none of my business, I don’t know the whole story, but Bella told me you’re both on good terms.”

“Please don’t worry, Andy,” Hermione said, and touched her arm reassuringly. “We had a long talk and put some issues to bed. I’m...I’m really rather fond of her.”

If only Andromeda knew the half of it, her brain chimed in, but she hurried to push the thought away again. 

Andromeda let out a sigh of relief and nodded. “Good, as long as you don’t mind staying with her. I was going to ask Narcissa to come over for a few hours, but they bicker when they’re left alone for any length of time. Bella’s good with Teddy, but she gets worked up if he starts to fuss too much and I don’t think she would’ve managed on her own.” Then Andromeda blew out a flustered breath and shook her head. “God, all this hassle over one night away.”

“You’re entitled to a break, Andy,” Hermione told her kindly. “Really, Teddy will be fine, and we’ll drink tea and watch some terrible Saturday night telly.”

Andromeda looked appeased somewhat at that and picked up her purse off the arm of the couch, and said, “Good, I really do appreciate this. There’s twenty quid on the kitchen table, order yourselves something nice for dinner.”

“Thanks, Andy. Have a good night.”

“You too, darling.” Andromeda pressed a quick kiss to Hermione’s forehead and crossed to the fireplace, grabbing a fistful of Floo powder from the jar on the mantle. “By the way, there’s films in the drawer under the telly if you fancy watching one later. I bought The Full Monty last week.” Then she grinned devilishly and said, “If you tell Bella it’s about men taking their kit off then she’ll probably be more inclined to watch it with you.”

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh at that as Andromeda threw Floo powder at her feet and was whisked away to The Leaky Cauldron.

* * *

Hermione had never developed much of a taste for alcohol. She remembered when she was young and her father would give her a lager shandy on special occasions. It was quite nice, and she’d felt very grown up when she’d clinked glasses with her parents to celebrate something or other. At Bill and Fleur’s wedding she’d had one glass of wine, and besides the odd tankard of butterbeer on Hogsmeade weekends, which had only the slightest alcohol content anyway, she’d never indulged any more than that. As a result she’d never been anywhere near what one might call 'drunk’, but after three glasses of firewhisky, she wondered whether or not the feelings she felt were intoxication or something else entirely. 

The whisky had turned down the volume on her thoughts and she couldn’t help but stare as the dark witch opposite her pushed back a stray curl that had fallen into her eye only for it to spring back again. Hermione worried her bottom lip and tried to hold back a groan, she found Bellatrix so incredibly charming in that moment that her stomach did a little summersault. 

Then Bellatrix lifted her tumbler to her mouth. 

Hermione tried not to stare. 

She didn’t quite know how to describe the feeling that plagued her. All she knew was that every single thing about Bellatrix had her riveted. The way her elegant fingers curled around the bottom of her glass, the fullness of her bottom lip, the way her throat bobbed as she swallowed her drink. Hermione felt like her tongue had turned to cotton wool in her mouth and she instantly regretted her choice of drink when she tried to quench her thirst with a mouthful of dry whisky. 

It wasn’t like she’d meant for it to happen, she’d tried so hard recently to push the fantasies to the back of her mind, but somewhere between whisky glass two and three, they’d reappeared with a vengeance. Because for months now she’d felt conflicted over the fact that she had somehow developed a crush on Bellatrix. 

Of course, Bellatrix was attractive. She'd recognized that immediately, the same way Professor Sprout had taught her to recognise that the most striking plants were the ones that were poisonous. But Bellatrix was — her whisky addled brain helpfully supplied worlds like clever, fascinating, beautiful, and she fought hard to push them to the back of her mind before she got too carried away with herself. 

She’d tried to remind herself that she had dated boys. That she’d kissed boys. And that she’d enjoyed doing those things with boys - for the most part anyway. But recently, recently she’d noticed her eyes being drawn to girls. Well, one girl in particular. She had tried not to read too much into it at first, she knew that occasionally girls would comment on how attractive another girl looked. She’d did it once or twice at school, complimenting Parvati’s hair or Lavender’s shoes, she’d even did it earlier with Andromeda when the elder witch had been stressing over her new dress. 

It was normal. 

Or at least, that’s what she’d been trying to tell herself ever since she’d realised that her healthy appreciation for feminine beauty had turned into an unhealthy fixation with Bellatrix Black. 

She couldn’t say exactly when it had started, or what had triggered it, but she remembered the faint, familiar stirrings of a crush some time after Andromeda had left them to babysit for the first time, and Bellatrix had apologised for the ugly slur she’d carved into her arm. 

It sounded so childish, a crush. But that’s all it was, it needed to go away. These feelings needed to disappear. Now. 

All she knew for certain was that after that day, she’d began to question her sexuality, and for a while now she’d felt confused and a little unsettled by all the lusty thoughts she’d been having about the sexy, dark haired beauty who had eyes that were like smoke wrapped in fog, and full pouty lips that she desperately wanted to —

“Darling, you really should respect your elders a bit more than this,” Bellatrix said dryly, and sipped her whisky again - her fourth, no, fifth glass? Whatever. Hermione had lost count. “I’m thirty points behind and beginning to think you’re cheating.”

Hermione shook her head and brought herself back to the present. She could tell by the sour look on Bellatrix’s face that she was not accustomed to losing. The dark witch had defensively blamed the board game Hermione had somehow talked her into playing after Bellatrix had surprisingly declined to watch The Full Monty.

The rules of the game were simple enough and Bellatrix was an intelligent witch, but over the past couple of hours they’d played four games of Scrabble and she’d lost every single one of them.

They were sitting on the floor in the living room in their pyjamas, bellies full of takeaway pizza and warm smokey firewhisky. Hermione hadn’t particularly planned on drinking, but Bellatrix had been rather persuasive when she’d found the bottle of Ogden’s at the back of a cupboard in the kitchen. Teddy hadn’t stirred once since he’d been put to bed so she’d decided that one wouldn’t hurt. 

Hermione looked at Bellatrix from beneath golden lashes, “Oh? What happened to ‘this is just a silly Muggle game, I’ll win for sure’?”

Bellatrix nose wrinkled in annoyance as she glanced down at her tiles. Judging by the way she was scowling, Hermione concluded that she didn’t have much to work with. Finally, she placed her tiles down on the board and sat back and gave Hermione a challenging look.

Hermione looked at the board, then stared at Bellatrix with a cocked eyebrow. “What’s a zibdo?”

“You don’t know?” Bellatrix asked, eyes wide in feigned surprise. 

“I can’t say I’ve ever heard of it,” Hermione deadpanned, and stared at Bellatrix over the rim of her glass tumbler. 

“I thought you knew everything?” Bellatrix snarked. “Brightest witch my arse.”

“Apparently not.” Hermione kicked her foot out under the coffee table and playfully nudged Bellatrix’s calf. Which was entirely the wrong thing to do because she shivered when her toes brushed against Bellatrix’s smooth skin a little more suggestively than she’d intended. Bellatrix didn’t notice though and Hermione quickly said, “Tell me then, if you’re so clever. What is it?”

“It’s a...uhh...” Bellatrix’s eyes darted around the living room, clearly looking for inspiration. “You know, one of those things...”

Hermione laughed softly and one by one plucked Bellatrix’s tiles back off the board. “Play fair now. Don’t start making up words because you’re losing again.”

“Well, what else am I supposed to do? These tiles are shit,” Bellatrix grumbled petulantly and leaned her chin on her fist. 

“You can swap them, remember?” Hermione pointed out and pushed the sack of tiles towards her. “Just no peeking this time.”

“What are you insinuating?” Bellatrix scowled. 

The corners of Hermione’s mouth tugged into a broad smile and she said, “That you’re a typical bloody Slytherin.”

“Please explain to me what being a Slytherin has to do with this daft game of yours?”

Hermione hesitated but Bellatrix rattled on before she even had a chance to open her mouth. 

“You do know that manky old hat puts us where we want to go, right? Then when we get sorted we tend to adopt our house’s characteristics.”

Hermione just stared at Bellatrix in surprise. Now there was an interesting theory. She thought back to her own sorting, of course she had researched all four houses in great depth and had a fairly good idea about which houses she would’ve liked to be placed into before she’d even set foot inside Hogwarts, but she couldn’t recall knowing for certain where she’d wanted to go or even asking the hat to put her anywhere in particular. 

“Do you honestly believe that all students in Slytherin were bullying little bastards who sat up at night plotting world domination?” she went on. “Sirius and his idiot friends tormented Severus Snape relentlessly for years, do they sound like gallant Gryffindor’s to you? Hufflepuff’s aren’t nearly as loyal as everyone thinks they are, I knew one in school who had three different boys on a string, and there was a Ravenclaw who tried to sit beside me nearly every class we shared so he could copy my notes. The house system was supposed to promote a sense of belonging and pride, instead it shoves brats into a box that then defines them for the rest of their lives. Alluding to house prejudices long after you’ve left school is rather juvenile, wouldn’t you say?” 

Hermione could only sit in silence, her mouth opening and closing dumbly as she tried to find her words. Who would have known, Bellatrix Black, the bigoted Pureblood, making complete sense. But after those three whiskys she definitely was not in any shape to contend with Bellatrix’s verbal sparring. You really had to be on top form to keep up with her. 

In the end all she could think to say was, “Why did you pick Slytherin then?”

Bellatrix just smirked, probably because she knew Hermione wasn’t in any fit state to participate in another one of their friendly debates. “It was expected of me,” she drawled. “It was expected of all of us. My aunt would’ve given us grief if we hadn’t picked Slytherin, which is why she was in a filthy temper for months when she found out Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor.”

“Oh, God,” Hermione shook her head and huffed a laugh. Having come face to face with Walburga Black’s portrait in Grimmauld Place on more than one occasion she had a fairly good idea of just how incensed the woman would’ve been. “I can imagine.”

“No,” Bellatrix shook her head. “You really couldn’t. Few knuts short of a sickle, that one.” Then she downed the rest of her firewhisky and gestured to the Scrabble board. “You win, this is boring. Top up?”

Hermione felt nauseous at the very thought, but found herself holding her tumbler out and saying, “Just one more. And you’re only bored because you’re losing.”

The corner of Bellatrix’s mouth tugged up into a smirk as she stood, and when she leaned over the coffee table to take the glass, Hermione wasn’t sure if it was the way their fingers brushed or the almost perfect view down Bellatrix’s lacy nightdress when her dressing gown fell open that made her feel the telltale signs of a blush creeping up her neck. 

Bellatrix sauntered out the room, walking in a surprisingly straight line for someone who had consumed as much alcohol as she had, and Hermione was so entranced by the sultry sway of her hips that she barely heard Bellatrix’s, “Back in a jiffy, love.”

Quickly coming to her senses, Hermione flicked her wand, tidying away the Scrabble board and vanishing what was left in the pizza box to the kitchen, then staggered to the downstairs loo to splash her burning face with cold water. Her stomach churned, but she knew it had nothing much to do with the whisky in her belly, and everything to do with Bellatrix’s lovely breasts. She took a few minutes to compose herself, and after a couple of deep, calming breaths that did little to actually calm her, she went back to the living room. 

Bellatrix still hadn’t returned, so she made her way to the kitchen, and stopped dead in her tracks. 

Hermione blinked. 

Bellatrix was smoking. 

Bellatrix didn’t smoke. At least, Hermione didn’t think she did. She’d never seen Bellatrix smoking, not once, but she looked so comfortable doing it as she leaned against the open back door and flicked ash out onto the slabs. 

Hermione should have been repulsed by the very sight. Being the daughter of dentists, she knew the damage that smoking cigarettes could do to your teeth. Not to mention it absolutely reeked. 

But Hermione was momentarily hypnotised, and her heart beat pleasantly at the very sight because it was - well, it’s was nothing short of a turn on, and sexy. As if she needed another reason to want to kiss Bellatrix. It was a terribly bad habit, but Hermione found it incredibly attractive. 

Bellatrix’s head was tipped back against the door and her eyes were closed, oblivious to Hermione gawking at her from the kitchen doorway. She took another deep drag, held it, and looked almost content as smoke travelled in twin streams down her nostrils on her exhale. 

The flush that Hermione had managed to partially tame in the bathroom flared back to life across her cheeks and down her neck, and fire speared right down into her core to pool deliciously between her legs. She watched, transfixed at the display, unable to contain the breathless feeling that suddenly overcame her. The smoke twisted and curled like a garter snake in distress, then Bellatrix’s eyes fluttered open to watch it disappear into the frigid winter air. 

So enthralled was she by the sight of Bellatrix’s elegant fingers delicately holding the cigarette that she didn’t realise she’d been holding her breath and it left her in a loud whoosh. Bellatrix’s dark gaze snapped to hers then, and her mouth curled into a wicked grin.

“There you are, love. I was beginning to think you’d buggered off to bed and left me all on my lonesome.”

“I was just, um...in the loo,” she told her, then internally berated herself for sounding so stupid, and quickly said, “I didn’t know you smoked.”

Bellatrix’s eyes flickered to the cigarette between her fingers then back to Hermione again. “Sometimes I like a puff when I’ve had a drink,” she nodded at the pack of Lambert and Butler on the dish on top of the microwave. “I don’t know how Andy can smoke these rotten Muggle fags, though. They’re vile. But they’ll do.”

Hermione’s eyebrows shot up as she came further into the kitchen, and she said, “I didn’t know Andy smoked either.” The closer she got to Bellatrix, the more she could smell the cigarette, and she wrinkled her nose in distaste, but she was still drawn to her. 

“Social smokers,” Bellatrix shrugged, and took one last deep drag before flicking the butt out into the darkened garden. Hermione would need to get rid of that tomorrow before Andromeda came home. Her little garden was her pride and joy. 

Bellatrix nudged the door shut with her foot and nodded at the two glasses on the counter, “Grab the whisky, love. Shall we watch telly for a bit? I’m not playing that game again.”

“I put it away, ” Hermione murmured, but before she could take even one step across the kitchen tile, she suddenly felt like the floor had turned into the deck of a storm-tossed boat, and she lurched forwards.

Right into Bellatrix.

The dark witch’s hands shot out, quick as a viper, steadying her, and a little spark, a touch like Fiendfyre, shot down Hermione’s spine. Clumsily, she gripped at Bellatrix’s arms and she felt the muscles in her biceps flex. 

“Dearie me,” Bellatrix drawled playfully. “Maybe you shouldn’t have that last whisky, darling?”

Hermione closed her eyes briefly and quickly straightened. God, how utterly mortifying. What must Bellatrix think of her? She wasn’t even drunk. Well, maybe a little, if the fuzziness around the edge of her vision was what drunk was supposed to feel like then...

Taking a deep breath, she tried to compose herself, but it nearly proved to be her undoing. The spicy scent of cedar and vanilla and cigarette smoke and something so undeniably Bellatrix assaulted her senses and Hermione felt her toes curl. She was close enough to the dark witch to see every individual dark eyelash and felt her breath catch at Bellatrix’s eyes. Usually they were a bottomless pool of darkness, but this close in the bright kitchen, Hermione could see they were actually a rich walnut brown. A ring of cinnamon around her iris caught the light, and Hermione felt her legs tremble, but despite her embarrassment, she was oh so glad that Bellatrix was still holding her, else she might’ve fallen in a heap on the kitchen tile.

Her pulse raced and Bellatrix leaned into her a little. Hermione was so sure the dark witch was going to kiss her. So utterly without thinking, she tipped her head towards Bellatrix, and Bellatrix lowered her chin towards her. All Hermione could see were those mesmerising brown eyes as Bellatrix’s warm breath whispered over her face, smelling faintly of whisky and cigarette smoke, and for a moment, she simply lost the power of coherent thought, because the smell of cigarettes wasn’t as unpleasant as she imagine it would’ve been. 

Then her ears started to ring with the echo of her own heartbeat when she watched Bellatrix’s tongue dart out to swipe across her bottom lip. Hermione’s mouth fell open a little, perhaps accidentally, but she wanted nothing more in that moment than to capture that shining bottom lip between her teeth, and she leaned in just a little further...

Bellatrix jerked back suddenly. 

“I...oh, what?” Hermione said, vaguely aware that Bellatrix had said something.

“Don’t say what, you know I hate that,” Bellatrix scowled, and abruptly stepped away from Hermione to flick the kettle and summon a mug from the cupboard. “Find something on the telly and I’ll make you coffee, you’re staggering around like a newborn Thestral and you need to sober up.”

Hermione took a deep shaky breath. The dark witch’s tone brooked no argument, but there was an almost indistinguishable nuance of something else in the statement that Hermione couldn’t quite place. She left the kitchen without a word and turned the television on in the living room. On her third lap of the channels she finally settled on an old episode of Judge Judy just as Bellatrix sauntered across the room with a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and a glass of whisky in the other. 

“Here,” she held out the mug and Hermione wrapped her hands around it. “Get that down you.”

“Thank you,” Hermione murmured, taking a sip. She almost hummed in pleasure, the coffee tasted so much better than the firewhisky. 

“You know, dove, this really is becoming unnecessary,” Bellatrix murmured as she sat down at the opposite end of the couch with her whisky. As far away from her as possible, Hermione noticed. 

“What is?” Hermione played dumb. 

“This,” Bellatrix said and fluttered her hand between them. Hermione knew exactly what she was talking about. It was an old argument. One they had been having for the last few months. One that Bellatrix had long since stopped winning but still persisted in bringing up. “I really don’t need your continued presence in my life. Surely there was something more interesting you could’ve been doing tonight instead of watching telly with me?”

Hermione didn’t exactly want to tell her that Andromeda had asked her to help babysit, she didn’t want to hurt Bellatrix’s feelings - if such a thing was even possible. “I’m actually rather fond of the time we spend together,” Hermione told her instead. “You wouldn’t deprive me of your company, would you?” 

“I thought you and Weasley were on better terms? After your little tiff a while back. Why didn’t you do something with him tonight?” Bellatrix suggested. 

It wasn’t a tiff, Hermione thought. They’d rushed into a relationship after the war, just like so many others. They were all still on a high after everything that had happened. But she’d realised rather quickly that they were better off as friends, that they both wanted different things. So Hermione had broken it off after only a few weeks. Ron had been hurt, of course, but Hermione knew he must’ve known deep down that their relationship would never go anywhere. That hadn’t stopped him from being arsey about it for a while, though. If she was being honest, his childish behaviour towards her was one of the reasons that Hermione had started accompanying Harry on his visits to Andromeda’s house. 

Ron had soon gotten over it though, and she was pleased that their friendship didn’t suffer for it in the end. He’d asked several times to try again, but stopped asking soon after meeting Eliza.

“Ron actually has a date tonight,” Hermione told her. “A girl he met at the Auror academy. She’s in her second year. Harry said she’s nice.”

Bellatrix rolled her eyes and sipped her whisky, “Riveting. So there’s no hope for a reconciliation then?”

“We’re still friends.”

“That’s nice,” Bellatrix said dryly, and turned to the television. 

They were silent for several minutes as Hermione sipped her coffee and watched Bellatrix watch Judge Judy tear strips off a man and make several scathing comments on his intelligence that probably made him feel two centimetres tall and regret the day he stopped paying child support.

“I have a confession,” Hermione said finally, and Bellatrix’s head snapped around to look at her again, dark brows shooting up in interest. 

In the months to come Hermione would often wonder what it was about that particular moment that made her reveal the true depth of her feelings - whether it was the three glasses of whisky, the almost kiss in the kitchen, the colour of Bellatrix’s eyes, or something else entirely - but all she knew was that the sexual tension that had crackled between them all night needed to be resolved. And what better time to do it than when her inhibitions were practically nonexistent after all the alcohol she had consumed. 

A sudden bout of anxiety had her thinking that perhaps, in her new state of lust, she’d been imagining things. Maybe she’d only thought she'd felt more heat than usual recently in Bellatrix’s parting glances whenever she left Andromeda’s house. Or just thought she'd seen Bellatrix bite her lip when their hands touched over a coffee mug. Maybe turning around and noticing Bellatrix’s gaze dart away from her was all in her head.

But even though the idea of bringing up any of this out of the blue, especially if her judgement had been clouded by her...feelings, had her stomach twisting into anxious knots, she dug deep for her Gryffindor courage. 

“You see...” Hermione said, fidgeting with the edge of a cushion. “I’ve developed a bit of a crush on you.” 

Bellatrix stared at her for a long moment, then threw her head back and laughed. Well, that certainly wasn’t the reaction she was expecting. In fact, if she were being honest with herself, she wasn’t entirely sure what reaction she was expecting.

“Just recently?” Bellatrix asked, grinning broadly. “What took you so long?”

Oh, Bellatrix thought she was having a laugh. Not ideal, but she could work with it. “No, not recently. It’s been months really,” Hermione made a show of smiling innocently and looked at Bellatrix with wide eyes, playing along. 

“Oh, I see, so why are you just telling me this now when you’ve fancied me for ages?” Bellatrix grinned, still clearly enjoying what she thought was a joke.

“I move slowly,” Hermione said, and shimmied a little closer to her on the couch. 

Bellatrix put a hand on her heart and sighed dramatically. “At this rate I’ll be six feet under before you make your move. Just as well. You’re too young for me, darling.”

That gave Hermione pause and the witty retort she had planned died on her tongue. Tentatively she asked, “Is that the only thing that would stop you? The age difference?”

Bellatrix stared at her and Hermione tried to decipher her expression, but the older witch’s face was completely impassive and gave absolutely nothing away. 

“You’re serious, aren’t you, Granger?” Bellatrix asked quietly. 

Hermione swallowed. She licked her lips, eyes flickering to Bellatrix’s and back again. The energy in the room changed. 

“I—well...” Hermione faltered. 

Bellatrix took another few moments to pull herself together before finally saying, “Well fuck me sideways. You’ve definitely had too much.”

Hermione watched the telltale signs of a blush creep up Bellatrix’s neck and her stomach plummeted. “I’m not drunk—” Hermione began, but Bellatrix’s harsh laugh stopped her short. 

“You bloody well are!” Bellatrix shot back, looking more than a little flustered now. “You’d best take yourself off to bed. If I’d known you were this much of a lightweight I wouldn’t have encouraged you to have a drink with me.”

“To be fair,” Hermione said softly. “I’m an adult and it was my choice to drink those whiskys.” She felt like she was grasping at straws now. 

Bellatrix seemed to sense her hurt feelings but she just shook her head and knocked back what was left in her own glass in two large gulps. Hermione didn’t think she had ever seen the dark witch look so rattled and she was immediately consumed with an overwhelming feeling of guilt. She wished she’d never opened her stupid mouth. 

“I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel uncomfortable,” Hermione said, tentatively reaching out to rest her hand on top of Bellatrix’s. “I just thought—“

“This is highly inappropriate,” Bellatrix muttered, shaking her head in dismay and jerked her hand away. 

They plunged into an awkward silence that soon began to feel oppressive after a few minutes without their usual banter. Hermione quickly realised that she’d been rather foolish and had put Bellatrix in an exceedingly awkward position. For someone who was renowned for her intellect, she hadn’t thought beyond what would happen after she’d admitted her feelings and she was long past the point of just going to bed and feigning ignorance in the morning. 

“Bella?” Hermione said after a long time. Bellatrix glanced hesitantly at her. “Were you going to kiss me earlier?” 

Bellatrix’s brow furrowed and hoarsely she said, “Pardon?” 

The calm was suddenly charged with anxiety, but Hermione pressed on. “In the kitchen. You looked like you were going to kiss me.”

Bellatrix’s eyelashes fluttered and she said, “I...I don’t know what you want me to say, Granger.”

Hermione swallowed thickly and turned on the couch to face Bellatrix fully. Her hand came up to tuck a stray curl behind Bellatrix’s ear and she leaned in slowly. “Say yes.”

“Yes?” Bellatrix parroted. “I—“

Hermione leaned in and captured Bellatrix’s lips in a soft lingering kiss. After a beat too long, she felt Bellatrix stiffen and inhale sharply through her nose, and Hermione pulled away. 

“Did I mess up?” she asked, her eyes flashing with worry. 

Bellatrix’s tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip, just like she’d done in the kitchen, and after more than a few seconds of silence, Hermione felt her stomach flutter unpleasantly. 

Bellatrix blinked, looking stunned, and asked, “Why...why would...”

Why indeed, Hermione thought. If she knew the answer to that then maybe she would’ve been able to understand her own feelings a little better. All she knew was that she did it because she liked Bellatrix, because she’d turned out to not be anything like what Hermione had imagined her to be, because at first she was moody and reserved and, truthfully, a little bit frightening, but Hermione later realised that she was also intelligent and creative and funny too, and because she imagined having sex with Bellatrix and because she’d never wanted another person, especially a woman, like she wanted Bellatrix and because she’d rolled all of those things together into something that felt terrifyingly like—

Before she could finish that thought, Bellatrix covered her face with her palms and broke into uncontrollable, nervous giggles. Hermione’s eyes widened. It jarred her back to reality somewhat. 

“Don’t laugh,” she pleaded. “I’m so sorry. I think I’ve read this all wrong. I feel like a complete idiot. I just thought...”

“I’m flattered, Granger, I really am,” Bellatrix finally managed when her laughter had died down enough to finally speak. 

“I really am sorry,” Hermione said honestly, slightly mollified that Bellatrix didn’t seem too mad, and feeling more sober now than she had since that first glass of whisky. “I - don’t know what came over me. I just...”

“Look, love, I couldn’t care less if you’re a lezzie,” Bellatrix said, raking a trembling hand through her hair. Hermione felt her face flame. “I just don’t think I’m the woman you should be setting your sights on, that’s all.”

Hermione shook her head, “You - you think I’m a lesbian?”

“Well, you did just kiss me.”

“You were going to kiss me in the kitchen,” Hermione argued, even though she wasn’t entirely sure if that was what really happened. 

Bellatrix just shrugged, as if the whole thing wasn’t a big deal, but she didn’t deny Hermione’s accusation either. 

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said again, and she sighed. 

“Stop saying sorry. It’s done. Let’s just forget the whole thing ever happened, alright?”

“Alright, but...I just want to say—“

“Granger, stop,” Bellatrix pleaded. 

“I’ve been feeling a little confused about—” she gestured between them, “—this. For a while now, actually. I just want you to know that I’d be fully aware of what I’d be getting myself into if...if we...that is, if you wanted to...”

Bellatrix’s eyes widened and she looked like a deer caught in the headlights. “You - you don’t know what you’re saying.”

Merlin’s bollocks, would you shut up, Hermione thought to herself. She’s not interested. Haven’t you made enough of a fool out of yourself? Take a breath. Say goodnight. Leave. Go to bed. 

But instead she found herself saying, “I would really like to kiss you again.”

* * *

Bloody fucking hell, what was happening?

Bellatrix was stricken. 

The girl had thrown her for a complete loop with her confession and she felt more than a little stunned at Hermione’s audacity. In fact, she didn’t even know what to say. What could she say? Whatever Hermione wanted to happen, whatever she thought was going to happen, could not bloody happen. At the end of the day Bellatrix was a widowed ex-Death Eater on the wrong side of forty with a shady past, and Hermione was barely nineteen and by all rights should have still been in school finishing her lost seventh year. 

But when the silence threatened to stretch into oblivion, Hermione must have taken Bellatrix’s silence to mean that she wouldn’t be entirely opposed to the idea of another kiss, and leaned in to softly press their lips together again. Bellatrix didn’t reciprocate again, but she could feel her resolve starting to crumble. After a moment, Hermione pulled away, but remained close. 

Bellatrix felt completely off kilter now, her mind reeling, and she wasn’t entirely sure what possessed her to do what she did next, but she knew that she couldn’t blame it entirely on the firewhisky. She leaned in and kissed Hermione’s face, nipping at the hinge where her jaw met her throat.

Hermione sighed softly in her ear and whispered, “Bella.”

The raw need in that one breathy word was enough to send desire pooling between her legs. Bellatrix couldn’t get over the flush on Hermione’s face, or the smell of her, or the softness of her hair when she finally combed her fingers through it to pull her closer and slant her mouth against hers, and she suddenly couldn’t get enough. Then, when Hermione’s hand slid around her neck, when she felt the gentle scrape of Hermione’s nails against skin, when Hermione’s fingers fisted in her hair, Bellatrix couldn’t help the groan that tore from her throat, and deepened the kiss. 

Bellatrix swiped her tongue into Hermione’s mouth and the kiss turned sloppy and hot. Hermione tasted like whisky and coffee and mint, and Bellatrix was desperate for it. She grabbed the collar of Hermione’s pyjama top and pulled her closer. Her body was on fire, and the ache between her legs was almost unbearable, because kissing Hermione was so much better than she had ever dared imagine it could be. 

And then, just as suddenly as it began, it abruptly ended when Bellatrix came to her senses and pulled away again with a strangled groan. 

“Bella,” Hermione panted, confused. “What’s wrong?”

“Shit. Fuck. I...I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have. You’re drunk.” Bellatrix shook her head, breathing heavily through her nose. “I can’t, Granger. We can’t.”

Hermione frowned, “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Bellatrix growled, frustrated. She hated not being in control, especially of herself, and right now she was far from in control, especially when it put her someplace vulnerable. Especially when she had no idea if Hermione was...so inclined, or if the effects of the drink had her more worse for wear than Bellatrix had ever expected it to. “God, I shouldn’t be encouraging this.”

“I want this, Bella,” Hermione said quickly. “I really do. Don’t you want it too?”

“Granger,” Bellatrix shook her head again, and charcoal met amber. “Fuck, it’s not that I don’t want you. Salazar, if you only knew how much. I just...can’t.” She gestured between them. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

Despite the feelings of horror and shame that consumed her, Bellatrix couldn’t help but take in the sight of Hermione - her parted lips were red and kiss swollen, her chest heaved, and her eyes were smouldering with desire.

She was breathtaking. 

But she looked worried. 

“I’m not drunk,” Hermione insisted.

Bellatrix shook her head and said, “No, no, we’ve both had too much. I should never have taken such liberties, I—“

“As I understand it, taking liberties doesn’t apply if I...” Hermione took a deep breath. “If I’m similarly inclined. Anyway, I kissed you first.”

“I’m old enough to be your mother you realise?” Bellatrix tried to reason with an incredulous shake of her head. 

“You’re not my mother, and I’m old enough to know that,” Hermione told her, leaning in. Bellatrix didn’t pull away despite her obvious reluctance, and they kissed again, softly. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you?” Hermione murmured against her lips. 

“About as long as I’ve wanted to kiss you probably,” Bellatrix admitted with a sigh.

Hermione beamed, looking entirely too smug for Bellatrix’s liking. “Why didn’t you ever say anything? I’ve noticed the way you look at me.”

Bellatrix felt like every muscle in her body had locked up at once. She’d never been so mortified in her entire life. “I wasn’t...” she choked, then finished with a weak, “fuck sake.”

She shook her head. Bloody hell. Caught ogling a teenager. Obviously she hadn’t been as discreet as she thought she’d been and thought about all the countless tiny moments that had passed between them over the last few months, she couldn’t even deny it, not to Hermione, and certainly not to herself, because, really, what was the point now?

“I’m allowed to look, even if I can’t touch,” she finally admitted, a touch defensively. 

“Who said you can’t touch?” Hermione practically purred. 

Bellatrix swallowed thickly, “I thought you were straight? You had a boyfriend.”

“You had a husband,” Hermione countered.

Bellatrix pursed her lips. “Touché.”

It suddenly occurred to her then that she had been a blind fool for months. When she recalled all the times that she’d undressed Hermione with her eyes, and the heated looks they’d shared, or all the times they’d said things that could have been considered flirtatious, she realised that if she had been paying close enough attention, it would probably have clicked long before now. 

She couldn’t believe it had taken her so long to see it. It had been a long time, a very long time, since she’d felt like this about anyone. Yet, it seemed ridiculous that she would be attracted to someone she'd felt such intense hatred for less than a year ago.

Hermione was flushed and tousled and breathing heavily. She looked hopeful, uncertain and excited all at once, but above all else, she looked aroused. Bellatrix couldn’t remember the last time she’d had this effect on someone, let alone a woman.

It was empowering. 

But dare she indulge any further? 

Even though they’d both had one too many, even though her brain was telling her what a completely stupid idea it would be to continue this madness, Bellatrix couldn’t stop herself from reaching out and gently prying the half empty mug that Hermione still held out of her hand and putting it down on the coffee table. 

When she turned back to Hermione, she noticed how the girls eyes had dilated, and Bellatrix’s belly churned with want. 

She suddenly wanted Hermione closer. 

“C’mere,” she murmured, and then they were on each other again. 

Kissing Hermione was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. Bellatrix had never kissed a woman. Just men. Her husband’s lips had always been dry and chapped, his unshaven chin left whippet lashes on her cheeks. 

But this, this was bliss. 

And then fingers were sliding into her hair, and after some rearranging, firm thighs were straddling her on the couch. Hermione pulled back a little, a vain attempt to catch her breath Bellatrix presumed, but Bellatrix wouldn’t let her, after all, Hermione had started this, and it wasn’t Bellatrix’s fault if the young witch couldn’t keep up. She undid the knot at Hermione’s waist and parted the two halves of her dressing gown so she could dig her fingers into Hermione’s hips. Hermione gasped and Bellatrix chased it away with a crushing kiss that nearly knocked the wind out of both of them. 

Hermione ground down onto her lap and, fuck, Bellatrix would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about doing exactly this during all those lonely nights back home in Hampstead. She skimmed her palms up Hermione’s pyjama clad thighs before wiggling her fingers under the hem of her top and brushing her knuckles against heaving ribs. 

They both groaned at the first real contact with bare skin and Hermione’s head fell back. Bellatrix took the opportunity to surge forwards and latch onto Hermione’s neck, kissing and biting and sucking until she was coaxing the most delicious sounds from the younger witch’s throat. 

“You like that?” Bellatrix murmured against her throat. 

“Don’t stop,” Hermione panted. “Don’t — Ah!”

Then Bellatrix groaned when Hermione seemed to gain enough cognitive function to finally make use of her own hands. She felt Hermione’s fingers slide down from her hair, to her neck, and trace her thumb along her delicate collarbone, before sneaking her hand past the lacy edges of her silky nightgown to gently cup her breast. “Fuck,” Bellatrix hissed a breath.

As Hermione rubbed and squeezed her breast, Bellatrix felt her hips start to roll involuntarily in a desperate attempt to seek more pressure. And then Hermione’s thumb brushed against her already taut nipple and Bellatrix exhaled a pained groan. 

“You’re not wearing a bra,” Hermione whispered, pressing a kiss to Bellatrix’s jaw.

“Well spotted,” Bellatrix ground out, arching into Hermione’s touch. 

Her breathing was laboured, and when Hermione’s tongue flicked out to swipe across her Azkaban tattoo, Bellatrix sensed the glamour charm that concealed it shatter at Hermione’s touch, and her arousal spiked to an almost unbearable height. That shouldn’t have been such a turn on, the tattoo was a constant reminder of the very worst parts of her, but Hermione didn’t seem to care, and pressed a firm kiss to her throat. “Fuck, Granger...”

Seeking more skin, Bellatrix brushed both sides of Hermione’s dressing gown off her shoulders and tugged it down her arms. Hermione removed her hand from inside Bellatrix’s top long enough to help get rid of the garment and toss it to the other end of the couch, but before she could sneak her hand back inside to fondle Bellatrix’s breast again, Bellatrix wrestled the long sleeved pyjama top over Hermione’s head and wrapped her arms around her bare back, dancing her fingers up and down the curve of her spine, from her shoulder blades, right down to her arse and back again, desperate to touch every inch of her. 

Bellatrix felt oddly nervous. She didn’t know what she was doing, not one fucking clue, even though what they were currently in the throes of had been part of a recent nightly repertoire of fantasies which included and focused exclusively on Hermione. She’d chalked it down to it being the overactive sex deprived imagination of an old woman who hadn’t had a decent shag in years, but deep down she had known it was so much more than that. 

She’d never been promiscuous, but she’d never been shy about sex either; in fact, in her youth she’d considered most men to be beneath her, but often used her sexuality to her advantage, and had been happy for men to objectify her so she could get what she wanted from them. She’d learned early that men were easy to manipulate that way, and it had been entertaining to watch them dance to her tune. 

But this was a completely different ball game altogether, and she was so far out of her depth it was ridiculous. She wasn’t kissing Hermione, touching Hermione, to try and wrap her around her little finger for personal gain. No, Bellatrix was desperate not to mess this up. The raw need she felt pulsing through her veins was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. 

Sex with her husband had been quick and unsatisfying, obligatory, something to shut him up and stave off arguments. After joining the Death Eaters, their love life became so far removed from what it had been in the early years of their marriage, back when things had been fun and exciting between the sheets. No, working for a deranged megalomaniac had made things boring. 

But this? They’d barely done more than share some kisses and touch each other’s boobs but already it was so far away from the perfunctory, dull sex she was used to. She didn’t have a clue what she was doing, but Bellatrix knew enough about her own body and what she enjoyed to hazard a guess that Hermione probably wouldn’t be much different. 

Her fingers changed course and skimmed over Hermione’s hips, her quivering stomach, and up to cover her small breasts. Hermione sighed as Bellatrix traced the soft flesh where her flushed skin and the cup of her plain white bra met. She splayed her fingers to fully hold each breast in her palms and cradle the precious weight, squeezing gently. She was not disappointed by Hermione’s reaction, even with the barrier of clothing between them. Oh, yes. Why had it taken her so long to realise that breasts could be such a turn on?

Then Bellatrix’s breath caught in her throat when Hermione’s lips descended for another kiss, slow and deep this time. The young witch’s hand curled around her neck and her thumb brushed against the tattoo again. Bellatrix’s body thrummed with heat and arousal.

Suddenly it was all too much, yet nowhere near enough. 

Bellatrix wrenched her mouth away, fisting her hand in Hermione’s hair so she could tug her head to the side. 

“Bedroom,” Bellatrix husked against the shell of Hermione’s ear, and Hermione nodded far too quickly. 

It was more a command than a request, but she felt Hermione shiver with excitement before the younger witch clambered off her lap. They ascended the stairs together. Twice they came close to just taking each other right there on the staircase, lips and teeth and hands greedy and inpatient. By the time Bellatrix kicked the bedroom door shut, her dressing gown was hanging indecently down one shoulder and Hermione’s pyjama bottoms barely hugged her hips after Bellatrix’s haste to tug them of. 

For weeks now, Bellatrix had entertained fantasies about what it would be like to be in this exact position with Hermione Granger, and as they toppled backwards onto the bed, the reality of their situation suddenly came crashing down around her. But she couldn’t stop herself as her eager mouth sucked and licked roughly at Hermione’s neck, and they shimmied clumsily up the bed.

* * *

Removing their clothes was a blur and by the time Hermione’s bra slid off the end of the bed and onto the floor, she was left in nothing but her blue cotton briefs. She could have worn something a little sexier, even Bellatrix had been wearing a little slip of black lace before it had been tossed over her shoulder, but Hermione didn’t know this was going to happen, did she? 

Hermione couldn’t take her eyes off Bellatrix as the older woman hovered over her. A beautiful flush coloured her neck and chest, and Hermione’s mouth watered at the way she seemed to glow in the soft lamplight, but she didn’t have time to dwell on the gorgeous woman or feel embarrassed at her own nakedness as Bellatrix wrapped her mouth around a rosy nipple. Hermione’s back arched and she groaned, thrusting her breasts closer to Bellatrix’s hot mouth. 

There was almost no space between them at all, their bodies sliding together, and the sheer proximity of Bellatrix was enough to almost tip Hermione over the edge. She just wished that they’d gotten as far as to take Bellatrix’s nightgown off as well. But there was still time yet, even if she was so close already, her body dancing along the edges of that delicious wave she so desperately wanted to catch, and Bellatrix hadn’t even touched her in all the places she desired her most yet. 

The fact that Bellatrix started rocking back and forwards didn’t help matters either, and Hermione became acutely aware of the wetness now coating her thigh. 

She did that. 

She’d made Bellatrix Black wet. 

Knowing how much Bellatrix clearly wanted her nearly sent her tumbling over the precipice before they’d even truly got started and she cried out. 

“Oh, oh — God,” Hermione said, pressing Bellatrix’s head down. “Please — p-please —“ Bellatrix sucked her nipple roughly. “Ah! I’m —“ Bellatrix moved to the other nipple and drew it between her teeth. “Stop! Stop!” Hermione pleaded with a strangled cry, and pushed desperately at Bellatrix’s shoulders. 

Bellatrix tore her mouth away from Hermione’s breast with a wet pop and sat up, still straddling her thigh. She was panting harshly through her nose, brow creased in worry. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“N-no,” Hermione gasped, trying to gather herself and refrain from writhing uncontrollably beneath her. “God, no. It’s just...it’s just...I won’t last if you keep...”

Bellatrix’s eyes were dark - darker than she’d ever seen them before, and Hermione’s words left her. They were practically black with lust. The hungry look on Bellatrix’s face caused the throbbing between her legs to intensify and she reached up to palm Bellatrix’s breasts again with both hands. 

“Last chance to back out, Granger,” Bellatrix mumbled, eyes practically rolling when Hermione toyed with her nipples through her nightdress. “Tell me now, because otherwise I’ll need to sort myself out with a helping hand. I don’t...I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt this worked up.”

Hermione grinned. God, did that make her feel powerful. “I want this. I want you.”

“I’m nearly three decades older than you,” Bellatrix reminded her, sounding for all the world like she was trying to dissuade her. 

“You’ve mentioned that already and I told you, I don’t care.”

Bellatrix covered Hermione’s hands with her own and pushed her breasts up. “And my boobs used to be up here,” she told her, sounding almost apologetic, then she took Hermione gently by the wrists and slowly dragged her hands down her chest to her stomach. “And my belly isn’t as flat as it used to be.”

As arrogant and self-assured as Bellatrix was in many regards, Hermione quickly realised that the older woman was feeling self-conscious about her body, and she found the dark witch’s sudden shyness incredibly endearing. The corner of Hermione’s mouth turned up in what she hoped was a tender, reassuring smile as she looked up at Bellatrix, and languidly slid her hands up the dark witch’s strong thighs, pushing the silky nightgown up. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Hermione told her. “I bet you have a body like an Amazon. You’re name means warrior after all.”

Bellatrix rolled her eyes, but she was smiling crookedly, and Hermione knew the sentiment was appreciated even though she may not have believed a single word of it. 

“You’re overdressed,” Hermione whispered, fingers plucking at the silky material. “Take this off. Please. I want to see all of you.”

Bellatrix exhaled a shaky breath and appeared to hesitate for only a moment, then pulled the garment over her head in one quick fluid motion and tossed it over the side of the bed. 

Hermione dragged her eyes up and down Bellatrix’s body appraisingly. She was still relatively fit for a woman her age even if she was going soft in places, but she was still slim yet curvaceous. Hermione’s mouth watered and she felt desire flare in her chest as she slid her hands up Bellatrix’s legs again, fingers gliding past the trim hair at the apex of her thighs and over her softly rounded belly and every perfect pale dip and curve she could reach. Her skin was so soft and Hermione groaned.

Then Hermione’s eyes flickered up to Bellatrix’s face. The dark witch was avoiding eye contact, head turned to the side. She looked uncertain and Hermione noted the fresh blush that streaked across Bellatrix’s cheekbones, and felt her heart flutter in her chest. The dark witch was trembling a little, and Hermione wasn’t sure if it was because of want or nerves. She hoped it was the former. 

“Merlin,” Hermione whispered, more to herself than Bellatrix. 

“I haven’t had sex for years, not since the night we escaped Azkaban,” Bellatrix murmured, sounding shy again. “Hubby kindly pointed out that certain...assets...weren’t quite in the same place as he remembered, so I told him to fuck off and refused to sleep with him again.”

“Oh, Bella,” Hermione exhaled softly. “You’re beautiful.”

Bellatrix hummed, seemingly unconvinced, but leaned down and kissed Hermione again. Softly at first, almost as if she was thanking her for reassuring her, then with more urgency. Hermione whimpered, she was eager to move things along but the urge to take the lead was held in check by her inexperience, and she let Bellatrix kiss her again. 

It wasn’t long before Hermione was gasping into Bellatrix’s mouth when the dark witch’s hand fluttered over her hip and disappeared between her legs. She stroked her through her underwear and Hermione was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate on Bellatrix’s mouth while her hand explored. 

She felt like her every nerve ending was suddenly between her legs. And it was all she could do not to lie there, encompassed in the pleasures Bellatrix was making her feel. For a moment, she thought she was going to climax then and there, the sensation was nearly too much.

“May I?” Bellatrix asked silkily when she mercifully pulled away and snapped the elastic on Hermione’s knickers.

Hermione shivered and said, “Yes! God, yes!”

Hermione lifted her hips so Bellatrix could slide her underwear down. Bellatrix rose up off of Hermione’s thigh as she did so and pulled them off the rest of the way, before gently easing Hermione’s knees apart and kneeling between her legs. 

“Oh,” Hermione breathed, realising that they were now both completely nude. Feelings of inadequacy suddenly threatened to overwhelm her, especially when she saw how her own boyish, willowy figure compared to the womanly curves above her. But Bellatrix didn’t seem to mind all that much judging by the way her dark eyes roved hungrily over her, and Hermione felt like her entire body had been set alight under Bellatrix’s intense gaze. 

“It’s not very often I’m rendered speechless, dove,” Bellatrix finally murmured, completely awestruck as she brushed the backs of her fingers down Hermione’s belly. “You’re exquisite, Hermione.” 

Hermione shivered at the use of her first name. Bellatrix had never used it until now. Then Bellatrix lowered her hips as Hermione spread her legs around her. They ground against each other and kissed roughly, all tongue and teeth. 

Hermione cradled Bellatrix’s sharp jaw between her hands as they rocked and trembled against each other, and she grunted softly into Bellatrix’s mouth with each hard roll of the older woman’s hips. She couldn’t get over the soft press of another woman’s body trembling against hers. It was delicious really, and a million times more thrilling than the handful of unsatisfying sticky fumbles she’d had with Ron. She quickly pushed all thoughts of Ron out her head and concentrated on Bellatrix’s warm centre grinding against her and Bellatrix’s tongue plundering her mouth. But all too soon Bellatrix pulled away again and started trailing wet biting kisses down her throat. 

Hermione couldn’t guess how fast her heart was beating, it was rattling almost painfully against her ribcage, and Hermione thought it would fly right out her chest any moment. 

“Bella!” she gasped when Bellatrix kissed her breasts, but Bellatrix didn’t linger there long. Her mouth left a blazing trail down Hermione’s body, almost as if she had an exact destination in mind. 

And she did. 

Hermione realised Bellatrix’s intention when she pressed a kiss just below her navel. She trembled with anticipation and excitement but drew her knees together nervously. 

“Has anyone ever...” Bellatrix sensed her embarrassment and trailed off. 

“N-no.” The word came out in a strangled murmur. Amber eyes met charcoal briefly then flicked away again. “I mean...Ron and I slept together a few times but we never did...that.”

“This will be a learning experience for both of us then,” Bellatrix said softly and pressed a reassuring kiss to the outside of Hermione’s knee. 

Hermione’s eyebrows shot up. 

Oh. So Bellatrix hadn’t...

“I’ve never been with a woman before,” Bellatrix told her and pressed a kiss on her other knee. 

“Really?”

“Don’t act so surprised, love.” She rested her palms gently on Hermione’s trembling thighs. “I’ve only slept with three...“ She trailed off and met the younger witch’s gaze for another brief moment, then gave her a significant look. “Well, four. I’ve only ever had four sexual partners. People seem to labour under the misconception that I’m a raging nympho that’s shagged half the bloody magical community.”

Hermione blushed, thinking back to earlier that night when Andromeda had made the assumption that Bellatrix would have hopped into bed with just about anyone. If Hermione were being honest, she’d always had that impression about her too, and felt a little embarrassed to find out that Bellatrix was actually quite the opposite. She supposed it made sense that an arrogant Pureblood like Bellatrix wouldn’t sleep around. 

“If you don’t want me to—“ Bellatrix started to say. 

Hermione shook her head and couldn’t help her desperate whine, “No, please, Bella. I want you to.”

“Alright,” Bellatrix whispered. “Spread your legs then, love,”

Hermione did, feeling the blush creep up her neck at the fact she was now so open to Bellatrix, but she didn’t have time to dwell on her embarrassment as the first firm stroke of Bellatrix’s tongue against her slick opening had her head thunking back into the pillow. 

They both moaned.

* * *

Bellatrix tried to be gentle with her, even when Hermione tangled fingers in her hair and pulled. Hard. Even though Hermione was so wet, that there was hardly any friction. Even though Bellatrix didn’t really know if she was doing it right. But Bellatrix kept going because Hermione was clearly enjoying the attention she was getting judging by the soft moans and sighs that tumbled from her lips. 

It didn’t take long for Hermione’s moans to fill the room as Bellatrix upped the speed of her ministrations. Her ears were muffled by Hermione’s thighs but she could still clearly make out the younger witch’s ragged breaths, and Bellatrix couldn’t get enough of the fact that she’d drawn this kind of reaction from Hermione. 

“Harder,” Hermione whimpered, then louder, “Bella...ah, h-harder.”

Spurred on by her name tumbling from her lovers lips with such abandon, Bellatrix entered Hermione with two fingers, and she felt Hermione stiffen and clench, pulling her in deeper. Bellatrix moaned around Hermione’s throbbing clit, but despite her own mounting arousal, didn’t rush it. 

She pressed and twisted and curled her fingers, intent on finding all the places that made Hermione whine, but Hermione seemed to enjoy everything she did. So in the end she settled for her own preferred rhythm - gentle, slow, and deep, and fucked her until the hands in her hair tightened almost painfully. She kept working her skilfully with her mouth and right hand, her left hand snaked round Hermione’s thigh to press her pelvis down into the mattress when her hips started straining towards Bellatrix’s hot mouth. 

If this was what it felt like to see another woman fall apart this way, then Bellatrix wondered why the men she’d been with never spent more time fucking her like this. Hermione tasted so good, and Bellatrix’s felt like she could have spent an eternity teasing and exploring, but the desire to see Hermione come undone beneath her ultimately won out. 

She quickly added a third finger, making Hermione cry out, and sucked her clit roughly. Her wrist began to burn, but she didn’t slow, and finally the witch below her reached a shuddering climax. Hermione’s back arched off the bed and her loud throaty moan was loud enough that Bellatrix feared she might wake Teddy, before she collapsed back down onto the mattress, a shaky gasping mess. 

Hermione was surprisingly quick to return to herself and their gazes met when Bellatrix rose her head from between her trembling thighs, chin and mouth glistening. 

“Teddy,” Bellatrix whispered urgently, her eyes darting to the bedroom door as she drew herself up onto her knees. But Hermione snatched Bellatrix by the hand and pulled her up the bed towards her.

“He’s fine,” Hermione breathed. “Come here. Please.”

Bellatrix’s eyes darted around the bedroom, intent on locating her wand to cast a quick silencing charm. Better to err on the side of caution after all, but just as the realisation hit her that they’d both abandoned their wands downstairs, Hermione drew her in for a kiss. Bellatrix sighed and lowered the full length of her body against Hermione, and Hermione’s legs immediately hooked around her hips in a desperate attempt to pull her closer. Hermione slid her arms around Bellatrix’s shoulders and kissed her so tenderly that Bellatrix felt herself all but completely melt on top of her.

They were both breathing heavily as they kissed. Bellatrix was shaking a little too, her heart rattling almost painfully against her ribcage. “Fuck,” she murmured after a long moment, and drew back from the kiss to stare down at Hermione. 

The girl looked perfectly mussed, eyes dark and heavy in the heady afterglow of her orgasm. “Fuck,” she agreed, tilting her head up to brush their noses together. “Your turn.”

Bellatrix shivered in anticipation and arched a brow, “Have you always been this...fearless?”

“Gryffindor,” Hermione reminded her and rose her chin haughtily. 

Bellatrix laughed, soft and breathy, and rolled her eyes, “Oh, shut up. Don’t start with that nonsense again.”

Hermione raked her nails lightly down Bellatrix’s back and cheekily replied, “Make me.”

“Make you?” Bellatrix sucked in a sharp breath as Hermione’s fingers left a fiery trail on her heated skin. “Reckon I’ve done enough, Granger.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Hermione laughed. 

“I’m sure the orgasm speaks for itself.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes playfully, “Are you sure about that?”

“Well judging by the way you were riding my face I— “

She was cut off by Hermione’s mouth pressing hotly and firmly against hers. The younger witch rolled them so she was on top of her and Bellatrix felt Hermione’s hard nipples brush against hers and, god, one moment they were having post-coital banter and the next they were going again. 

“Touch me,” Bellatrix pleaded. 

Hermione stiffened and quietly asked, “What do you want?”

Bellatrix could hear her anxiety, the tension in the room was suddenly as palpable as the soft warm skin beneath her hands, and despite her earlier confidence, Hermione was clearly extremely nervous now that the tables had been turned. But Bellatrix had to steel herself a little too, she wasn’t usually all that shy when it came to sex, but it had been a very long time. 

“Fingers?” Hermione asked, trying to sound confident even though Bellatrix could still detect a hint of a tremor in her tone. She brushed her fingers delicately over Bellatrix’s belly and the muscles quivered under her tough. “Or...would you like me to use my mouth too?” 

“To be fair, I don’t think it’s going to take much, darling,” Bellatrix murmured breathily, and it was true, every inch of her trembled with heat and want, and she feared she might come undone from the barest touch. “Just...c’mere, give me your hand.”

Hermione looked hesitant again, as if all her fire and Gryffindor courage from earlier had left her. If she wanted to stop, Bellatrix would’ve been fine with that, she would never make Hermione do something she didn’t want to do, but after another few seconds of unease, Hermione leaned in a little closer and held her hand out.

Bellatrix cupped her hand with her own and slipped both their hands down between soft folds. Hermione shuddered as Bellatrix guided both their fingers inside herself and back out again, brushing against her clit. 

“Bloody hell,” Bellatrix muttered, closing her eyes briefly in relief. 

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” Hermione admitted softly, even as Bellatrix guided them both inside again. 

“Neither did I,” Bellatrix murmured, sucking in a few sharp breaths when the heel of Hermione’s palm pressed against her clit. All her nerve endings seemingly standing to attention. “But we got there in the end.”

“Oh, Bella,” Hermione murmured as she dragged her fingers experimentally through Bellatrix’s wet heat a few times when Bellatrix moved her hand away. The dark witch groaned at the contact, jumping a little every time Hermione’s fingers brushed her clit, and she scored her nails down Hermione’s back. Emboldened by Bellatrix’s response, she pressed a little firmer, moving her fingers in tight circles until Bellatrix was panting and shaking. 

“Go back inside,” Bellatrix gasped. “I won’t — fuck. I can’t wait.”

Hermione wore an awestruck expression, but made her wait only a moment before she added another finger, pulsing in and out slowly just like Bellatrix had done to her. They found a steady rhythm, Bellatrix’s hips arching to meet Hermione’s long, slow strokes. Bellatrix clenched her fist in Hermione’s hair, pulling her head down none too gently into a searing, desperate kiss. Bellatrix’s other arm came around Hermione’s sweaty back, nails digging into her shoulder as she tried to anchor herself to her. 

“Fuck,” Bellatrix hissed against  
Hermione’s lips. “Fuck. Harder.”

Hermione rose up onto her elbow for more leverage and used her full weight to thrust her fingers roughly into Bellatrix. Bellatrix scored her nails down Hermione’s back so hard that she was sure she must have drawn blood, and Hermione sucked in a pained breath, but she didn’t falter. Then she felt her inner muscles flutter deliciously around Hermione’s fingers as she pumped into her, and she cried out loudly. 

She was loud. Louder than Hermione had been, and she knew there was every possibility that she could wake Teddy before Hermione finished her. Hermione seemed to be on the same wavelength and swallowed her next moan with a kiss. Bellatrix gasped and moaned into her mouth as they kissed deeply, and Hermione redoubled her efforts. Bellatrix was dancing on the edge now and was rapidly reaching her peak, she could practically feel her own body humming. But, oh God, she was so close. 

Despite making the angle a little awkward, Hermione leaned forwards as she thrust into Bellatrix, and she pressed their foreheads together as they both panted and sighed, warm ragged breaths mingling in the dim room. It was more intimate than anything she had ever experienced in her life, and when she opened her eyes to look at the witch above her, she felt their connection so deeply that she was almost sure she could see right into Hermione’s very soul. 

“Hermione...” Bellatrix panted as Hermione added a third finger and flicked her thumb up to stroke her aching clit as her fingers pumped. “Faster...oh, fuck, fast—“

Then finally, Bellatrix’s head thumped back into the pillow and her back arched, chest heaving with hard panting breaths. Her body shook as wave after glorious wave pulsed through her, and her mouth fell open, face contorted in blissful agony. She completely lost herself as Hermione gently thumbed her clit and guided her as she rode the aftershocks of her orgasm. 

“Oh, fuck me,” Bellatrix groaned as she sunk heavily back against the pillows.

“I just did,” Hermione whispered.

* * *

Hermione had slept with Bellatrix Black. 

It was indeed a powerful feeling to have made the most feared witch in Britain come undone, even if she’d had...guidance. 

Her body was still thrumming and alive, utterly and completely sated. If she’d ever had any doubts about her sexuality, she didn’t now. Not after what Bellatrix had done to her. Not after all the things Bellatrix had made her feel. 

But now what?

She turned her head to the side and glanced at Bellatrix through the darkness. A few hours had passed since the dark witch had unravelled beneath her. She looked calm now, her breast rising and falling gently, and it was safe for Hermione to assume that Bellatrix had fallen asleep some time ago. 

There was something disarming about the moment, lying there, close and warm in Andromeda’s spare bedroom. Her fingers were still sticky, and her clit was still feeling the ghostly touch of Bellatrix’s mouth, and she just couldn’t stop looking at Bellatrix. 

Her features were much softer in sleep Hermione noted. The crows feet at the corners of her eyes and the lines around her mouth were barely visible, and without the famous scowl that often marred her face, she looked young and vibrant. It was with sudden stunning clarity that Hermione realised just how beautiful she really was. So engrossed was she with Bellatrix’s softly parted lips and the way her long dark eyelashes fanned across her high cheekbones, that she missed the slight hitch in breath. 

“You watching me sleep, Granger?” Bellatrix mumbled, cracking an eye open.

Hermione startled a little but recovered quickly. “If I say yes would that be weird?”

Bellatrix flung her arms above her head and stretched out like a cat, back arching off the mattress. Hermione tried hard not to stare as the duvet slipped a little and her nipples hardened when the cold air caressed her breasts. “A little bit,” Bellatrix admitted, settling herself under the duvet again.

Hermione’s face grew hot and she was thankful that she’d turned the lamp off hours ago. She felt troubled, her brow creasing thoughtfully, and although she was looking at Bellatrix, she wasn’t really seeing her. 

Observant as ever, Bellatrix asked, “Everything alright, dove?”

Hermione immediately snapped out of her reverie and bit her lip. Bellatrix stared intently at her, her dark eyes foggy with the haze of sleep. The look was adorable, and that wasn’t a word she would ever have associated with Bellatrix. “This is the first time I’ve woken up to a woman in my bed,” she admitted quietly, feeling almost abashed even though she knew she had no reason to be after what they’d shared. Maybe it was because the Dutch courage the firewhisky had provided her with earlier had almost completely left her system now and it struck her suddenly just what they had done. 

“This isn’t your bed,” Bellatrix pointed out, eyes sparkling playfully in the darkness. “It’s Andy’s.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and was about to deliver a snarky retort but her breath caught in the back of her throat when warm fingers reached out under the duvet and ghosted over her ribs. A shadow of a smile tugged at the corner of Hermione’s mouth as Bellatrix’s fingers followed the curve of her breast. 

“In any case, I hope it won’t be the last time,” Bellatrix whispered. “If you’re willing, that is?”

Hermione’s heart stuttered at those words and she felt like she had to physically stop the “Yes!” that threatened to claw it’s way out of her throat. She didn’t want to appear over eager even though it was Bellatrix who had suggested it in the first place. So she bit her lip and nodded a little, and Bellatrix smiled at her through the darkness. 

“I thought it would have been different,” Hermione mused, reaching out to flatten her palm against Bellatrix’s belly. “Being with a woman, I mean,” she clarified. “I thought it would be - the sex - it was different.”

“It was,” Bellatrix hummed in agreement. “But it was better.”

Hermione felt her face flame again and wondered when her body would feel the need to stop doing that. “You’re just saying that.”

Bellatrix laughed softly, “Am not! I can’t remember the last time I had a shag like that. Nine times out of ten I’d have to fake an orgasm to hurry things along.” 

Hermione pressed her face into her pillow and giggled. “I suppose women are at an advantage when it comes down to making other women feel good,” she said thoughtfully. 

Bellatrix hummed in agreement, “Well, of course. Woman have realistic expectations about how quickly they can reach a bloody orgasm. And we know what a clit is. There’s some blokes that still think the clitoris is an island off the coast of Fiji.”

Then Bellatrix dissolved into laughter and the deep throaty sound made Hermione’s insides twist. She’d heard her laugh before, but not like this, not when her voice was husky from sleep and great sex. She had no idea Bellatrix had such a deliciously filthy laugh, it was infectious, and suddenly Hermione was laughing as well. 

“You should go to your bed,” Hermione told her when their laughter had settled down. 

“Trying to get rid of me already?” Bellatrix teased. “Got what you wanted from me and now you want to send me on my way, hm? Is that it? I’m feeling used and abused.”

Hermione pinched her hip and said, “Oh, shut up. I just meant that it wouldn’t do any good for Andy to come home and find us both like this.”

“Don’t worry, Teddy’s usually up with the birdies. I’ll go back to my own bed after I’ve dealt with him in the morning,” Bellatrix reassured. “Andy probably won’t be back until noon anyway.”

“But—“ Hermione started, still indecisive and anxious at the thought of Andromeda coming home and finding them in such a compromising position. 

“Shhh,” Bellatrix hissed, and pulled Hermione towards her. 

When they rearranged themselves and finally slipped towards sleep, Hermione realised that Bellatrix was a snuggler. She was generally a woman who liked her own space, so Hermione was pleasantly surprised to discover that the older woman was the type to burrow in and wrap around. 

Bellatrix fell asleep like a stone in a pond, awake one moment, then completely submerged the next. Hermione was a drifter, the events of the last few hours whirring through her mind as she settled down.

So Hermione drifted, with Bellatrix pressed up against her back, arm wrapped around her hip, and as her consciousness ebbed, she couldn’t help but smile at the fact that she now knew the sounds Bellatrix Black made in the throes of passion and all the places she liked to be touched, before her mind finally dragged her into the oblivion of sleep.


End file.
